Over everyone’s heads, June could see the group reach the other side of the locked door. Richard had his arms crossed.
“All right, you’ve pulled your little stunt and we’re here. Now open up and we can talk,” he shouted through the window.
“Not until you’ve agreed to our demands,” Stanley said, opening the door a crack and passing a handful of leaflets through.
Mrs.B read the words out loud. “We, the Friends of Chalcot Library, make the following demands. One, that the council promises to keep the library open and fully funded. Two, that the future safety of the library is guaranteed. Three, that the building will not be sold off, and especially not to a multinational company or chain. We don’t want big corporations in this village; we want to protect local independent businesses. Four—”
“Hang on, hang on,” Richard said. “There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding here.”
“Do you deny that the council are considering selling off the building?” Mrs.B said.
“I think you’ve all got a bit carried away. The consultation is still ongoing; no decisions have been made about the future of the library.”
“Answer my question. Are you in talks with any companies to sell them the library building?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Richard said. June had to give it to him—either he knew nothing about Cuppa Coffee, or he was an excellent poker player. Brian, on the other hand, was the color of a beetroot.
“Look, we’re all on the same side here,” Sarah said, stepping forward. “This is painful for all of us, but we have to face up to reality. Our budget has been slashed and we need to ensure that all of our public services are providing value for money.”
“Of course the library is good value for money,” Stanley said. “Look at all the people who use it and the facilities it provides.”
“But what would you rather we made cuts to?” Sarah said. “The library service or, say, the local hospital? Or our schools? We need to make the savings somewhere.”
There were a few mutters from the crowd in the library.
“That’s a ridiculous question,” Mrs.B shouted, banging her fist against the glass. “This is the bloody Tories and their ridiculous austerity. You shouldn’t be having to make cuts in the first place.”
“Let’s all calm down, shall we?” Sarah raised her hands in a placatory manner. “There’s no need to get so heated. Why don’t you let us in, and we can have a little chat?”
“We’re not letting you in until you agree to these demands,” Stanley said.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Richard said to Sarah through gritted teeth. “We’ll have to go with Plan B.”
“Yes, bugger off,” Mrs.B shouted. “And don’t come back until you can prove to us the library will be safe.”
The group all turned to leave, but Sarah stopped.
“Wait. You, there at the back. What’s your name?” she said, pointing through the window.
“Me, madam? My name is Stanley Phelps.”
“No, not you. The woman behind you.”
Everyone turned around and June realized that Sarah was looking at her.
“She’s no one,” Mrs.B said.
“You’re a library worker, aren’t you?” Sarah asked.
June didn’t say anything, but she saw Sarah and Richard exchange a glance.
“Let’s get out of here,” Richard said.
Inside the library, the crowd dispersed from the window and resumed their conversations. June’s legs were trembling and she sank down onto a chair.
“Did you see the look on Brian Spencer’s face when I mentioned the council selling off the building?” Mrs.B said. “He looked like he was having a seizure.”
“What do you think the council’s Plan B is?” Stanley said.
